


Soul Meets Body

by JamesDeanPrincess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4692683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesDeanPrincess/pseuds/JamesDeanPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fanfic is based off of Soul Meets Body by Death Cab for Cutie. If you've never heard them or this song I highly highly recommend giving them a try. My top favorites are I'll Follow You into the Dark and Soul Meets Body, but there are others. </p>
<p>Anyway, listen to the song while reading the smut part because I imagined it like that and tried to line it up as best as I could. Future chapter titles (yes, there will be more, young ones) will be based off of lines in the song. </p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Soul Meets Body

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is based off of Soul Meets Body by Death Cab for Cutie. If you've never heard them or this song I highly highly recommend giving them a try. My top favorites are I'll Follow You into the Dark and Soul Meets Body, but there are others. 
> 
> Anyway, listen to the song while reading the smut part because I imagined it like that and tried to line it up as best as I could. Future chapter titles (yes, there will be more, young ones) will be based off of lines in the song. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Did he say anything to you? About anything? Before—before he….”

“No. Nothing.”

You, Sam, and Dean stared into the bright flames that surrounded the body of the hunter formerly known as John Winchester. By now the white of the sheet Bobby had given Dean to wrap him in was charred, and the flames climbed higher with every ounce of fuel the corpse gave up. Dean stood stiff as a board with his hands by his side, unblinking and unwavering in his stance; while Sam was struggling to stand upright, tears falling freely from his face, his words choking in his throat. You stood to Sam’s left, hands by your sides. Like Dean you shed no tears, but for different reasons. You didn’t know John very well at all, so your real sorrow was for Sam and Dean. Dean simply didn’t want to show weakness, especially in front of his little brother. And you couldn’t necessarily say you blamed him. 

Sam had his hands shoved in his pocket, and you could see through the outline of the fabric that he was clenching them. Discreetly, so Dean wouldn’t see and make a big deal out of it, you gently and reassuringly touched Sam’s forearm. He removed one hand from his jacket pocket and squeezed yours so tightly you thought it might break. You slowly moved closer to him and rubbed his wrist with your thumb, silently telling him that it was going to be okay. 

A few hours later, once the body had completely disintegrated, the three of you went inside where Bobby was waiting with an unopened bottle of Johnny Walker Red. He poured everyone a glass and you toasted John’s memory and drank in silence. After a second round, Bobby announced that he was heading to bed, and Dean seconded him. You put the glasses in the sink, and when you turned around, you saw that Sam was still sitting at the table, staring at his hands. “Sam?” you asked quietly, and laid your hand on his shoulder. “You okay?” 

Without so much as glancing up, he said, “Peachy.” There were several seconds of silence, neither one of you knowing what to say, or even if you should say something. Finally, however, Sam spoke. “I’m gonna head to bed.” He stood abruptly. 

“Okay. Yeah, me too. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and you knew he wanted to smile at you but couldn’t find it in himself. You barely lifted one corner of your mouth too, returning the favor. Then you went your separate ways: you upstairs to the spare bedroom, and Sam to the (surprisingly large) swing on the sleeping porch. You changed into your pajamas and climbed into the full-sized bed, but you couldn’t fall asleep. You just kept thinking about how it was too damn much of a coincidence that five minutes after Dean comes back, John dies, and the Colt is gone. You know he was trying to summon the demon. You were in the room when he lied to Sam about it. And this wasn’t a bias because you liked the younger Winchester. You could always tell when people were lying. 

And something else that bothered you: after the car accident (which thankfully you weren’t in, due to a friend a few states over whose husband was possessed by a demon), the only thing John seemed to care about while his son was in the ICU living on a respirator was finding the demon and berating Sam for not shooting him. Of course, you didn’t get Dean’s side of the story because he was dying (his bias helped to even out Sam’s bias and generally gave you a better idea of what happened without anyone’s personal feelings getting in the way), but you knew John could misplace his priorities. 

You still couldn’t sleep, so you got out of bed and turned on the bedroom light. In your bag was a small paperback you were borrowing from Sam, which you picked up and resumed reading. Fahrenheit 451. You’d read it before, but that was several years ago, and you were more than fine with reading it again. Just as you had finally been able to put your mind into the book and get it off of today’s events, a quiet knock sounded on your bedroom door. Three quick raps. That meant it was Sam. You got up and immediately opened it, and a tall and broken man stood before you, tearstains on his face and on his shirt. “Hey. Can I come in?” he asked in a hushed voice so as not to wake Bobby. 

“Of course.” You whispered back, opening the door wide and stepping aside. He walked over to your bed and picked up the book you had left there, spine facing up to keep your page. He looked at it and smiled a little, before replacing the bookmark and setting it on the nightstand. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor, then roughly ran his hands through his hair. You could see the beginnings of new tears forming in his eyes, and your heart broke a little. You had never seen him this upset. “Sam?” you asked from where you stood by the closed door. He didn’t respond. You walked over to him and knelt down in front of his hunched body, cautiously taking his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Sam, please talk to me. I’m not gonna brush you off. You can’t just shove this down and pretend you’re fine, because I know you’re not.”

Sam dropped his head just a little, and a tear fell from his eye to the ground. “Sam.” Before you could finish what you were going to say, Sam took your hands from his face and pulled you up from the ground and seated you in his lap. He fisted his right hand in your hair and placed his left against the small of your back, pressing you to him as he fervently kissed you. Pleasantly surprised, you kissed back as soon as your mind had caught up to what was happening. Both of your hands wound into his thick hair, fingertips gently scraping his scalp. A small groan erupted from the back of his throat and was swallowed into your mouth, and you felt your center heat up. 

Before you knew it, Sam had laid you on your back on the bed, grinding against you and kissing you harder. You moved one hand from his hair to his shoulder, and gripped him tightly with your fingertips, trying not to scratch him. Panting, you pulled away for air, and Sam immediately moved his lips to your neck, sucking hard and nipping the skin, swiveling his hips against you. As a moan left your throat, you suddenly came back to reality. “Sam stop.” You grabbed his shoulders and he let off you, looking into your eyes for signs of fear or pain. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just—why are you doing this?” Hurt briefly flickered across his face, and you regretted putting your thoughts that way. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to regret anything tomorrow morning. I don’t want you to make a mistake because you’re in pain.”

Sam brushed a lock of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, then pressed his nose to yours. “Being with you could never be a mistake.” 

Satisfied with his answer, you pulled him down your lips and resumed the kiss, which quickly heated back up. Sam resumed grinding his pelvis against yours, and now you could feel that he was completely solid. Soon, your clothes became hot and scratchy, each of you ripped the other’s off and threw the respective articles on the ground next to the bed. Sam pulled back from your red and swollen mouth to kiss down your neck to your sternum, first going in between your full breasts, then coming back to roughly suck your pointed nipples into his mouth. You arched your back and moaned, and he smirked and continued down your body. 

You were panting by the time he finally reached your center, biting your lip to keep from begging him to move faster. He nosed at your folds, and then used to tongue to prod until he found your clit. He found it on the second try, and you sharply tugged his hair to let him know he struck gold. He then immediately dove in between your folds, licking roughly at your lower lips. Once he was sure you were wet enough, he slipped two of his long fingers into you, pumping hard and fast. You clamped your hand over your mouth just in time to muffle the scream that erupted deep in your chest from his actions. You bucked your hips into his hand and writhed as he curled his fingers hard towards himself, sucking brutally on your clit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you stifled another scream as your orgasm struck you.

It had been a long time since you’d come like that.

Without even giving you time to recover, Sam swiftly entered you, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he did. He drove your hips into the bed with every hard thrust, sucking hickey after hickey into your neck. He took your hands in his and held them firmly above your head, biting at your earlobe. You couldn’t help but whimper every time he entered you, his size one you had never experienced before. Each time he bottomed out, his tip just barely brushed your cervix. 

The closer he drove you both to your orgasms, the harder it was for you to stay quiet. And Sam seemed to be having the same issue. He was grunting and groaning almost constantly, and had let go of your hands to prop himself up in a bridge-like position, pushing into you with his whole body. The new angle caused him to slam into your G-spot every time without fail, and you could no longer halt the wanton sounds that escaped your mouth. Your hands latched onto his shoulders and you dug your nails into his smooth skin, leaving behind deep red marks in your pleasure. 

The headboard was rhythmically hitting the wall behind it, the sheets soaking and twisted and removed from one corner of the mattress. Sweat covered your bodies and your slick covered the inside of your thighs. Sam’s saliva mixed with the sweat on your neck, and as you were getting lost in the feeling, he flipped onto his back without exiting you and continued to piston his hips up into yours. You would have lost your balance if it weren’t for his large hands gripping your waist tightly. 

Sam quickly sat up, pulling your body closer to his and causing you to lean back a little, further heightening your pleasure. He wrapped his strong arms around your torso fully, burying his head in the crook of your neck and letting loose strangled moans. He moved his hips impossibly faster, and you tightened your legs around his waist, gripping his back tightly. His name fell from your lips first in small whimpers, then in hushed shouts as he slipped his hand between you and firmly rubbed your clit. 

Sam covered your mouth with his just in time to muffle the scream you let loose as the coil in your lower belly snapped and fireworks erupted behind your eyelids. Your mouth swallowed his own yell as his orgasm immediately followed yours. The grips you had on one another tightened and your faces scrunched in pleasure, wave after wave of sweet release washing over your spent bodies. When your orgasms finally subsided, Sam laid back down on the bed, slipping out of you and holding your heaving body close to his. 

When you had finally caught your breath, Sam brushed your hair back from your face and wiped away the tears you didn’t know had fallen. “Did I hurt you?” Sam whispered painfully.

“What?” you looked at his thumb and saw the little drop of salt water on it. “No, no, it was… it was just the opposite.” You smirked, thinking back. Sam smiled a little and you both lay there in silence. You wanted to say something else, but you didn’t know what. So you simply said goodnight and let yourself snuggle into his bare chest. He rested his chin on the top of your head and closed his eyes, but he didn’t fall asleep, even after he felt you relax completely in his arms. The sex was amazing, he couldn’t deny that, and it was even better because it was with someone he cared about and not some tipsy girl from a sleazy bar. And it had definitely taken his mind off of his dad and the demon. He felt much more relaxed now, but that gnawing feeling in his stomach still hadn’t gone away. He knew there was more to it than John dying at the same time Dean miraculously woke up. 

Finding himself grinding his teeth in anger, he stopped himself from thinking about it any longer. He took a deep breath and tightened his arms around you, burying his nose in your hair and finally drifting off into the first peaceful sleep he’d had in months.


	2. Feel What it's Like to be New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Y/n's "morning after"

You woke up feeling warm and satisfied, and when you opened your eyes you remembered why. Sam’s arm was slung over you, his chin still on top of your head, his breath gently blowing a few stray strands of your hair. You tried to turn around to look at the clock, but Sam’s arm was too heavy and you didn’t want to wake him up. So you settled with estimating the time by how much sunlight had poured in through the window, and relishing in the rare opportunity to sleep in.

            You had seen Sam shirtless before; once when he had gotten out of the shower wearing only a towel, and a few other times after a hunt when he needed patching up. But you had never gotten to look at him like this. His chest was smooth and tan and muscular. You gently ran your fingertips along his pec, and you could feel that it was soft, too. At your light touch, the muscle twitched, and you smiled and tentatively draped your arm over his waist. He sighed contentedly in his sleep. The heat radiating from him felt wonderful, and you closed your eyes and breathed him in.

            For the year you’ve been hunting with Sam and Dean, you couldn’t help but feel a stronger bond with Sam than with Dean. You had a lot in common with both brothers, but Sam had always been your favorite. He was handsome, incredibly smart, witty, and down to earth. He was kind of your dream man, honestly. And before this, you didn’t think anything would happen between you. But comfort sex could be as far as it goes. You wouldn’t be heartbroken, necessarily, but you wouldn’t be thrilled either, especially if it became too weird for you to even be friends.

            Just as you’d started to settle back into Sam’s warm embrace, you felt him start to stir. When he opened his hazel eyes, he saw your big (y/e/c) ones looking up at him, and it brought a wide smile to his face.

            “Hey.” He said softly.

            “Hey.” You returned, reflecting his smile. “How are you?” you asked carefully. This was a slightly awkward morning after, but it also carried an air of comfort. The latter feeling was most likely due to the fact that you still had your arms around each other. Or maybe because nothing was ruined after all; it was just the opposite.

            Sam lowered his head, but immediately raised it, blushing, when he discovered your breasts were bare. You grinned widely again at his gentlemanly ways before he answered you. “I’m okay.” You narrowed your eyes. “Okay, I’m not _okay_ , but I’m gonna get there. I’m dealing with it. Last night… last night really helped and not just because it was really great sex.” You cocked your head, about to ask why else, before he spoke again. “I really like you, Y/n.” he said solemnly, his eyes boring into yours. You could tell that these were not the circumstances under which he wanted to confess this to you, but he needed to say it. And the morning after was better than not at all.

            “Is it just because you’ve seen my nipples?” you quipped with a serious face. He burst into laughter. “I know, they’re enchanting. That’s why I usually keep them locked up until the third or so date.” You couldn’t finish without smiling at what you had done. He was twice as attractive when he laughed.

            Sam stopped laughing and briefly ran his hand up and down your back, stilling it in the curve above your pelvis.  “I like you too, Sam. And not because of _your_ nipples, either.”

            “You’ve really got a thing for nipples, don’t you?” he teased, smirking.

            “I do not!” you answered, lightly pushing against his shoulder.

            “You do too.” He pushed yours.

            “Do not!”

            “Do too.”

            The back-and-forth, accompanied by the playful shoves, quickly turned into a giggly wrestling match, ending with Sam between your legs hovering above you. Suddenly, the ache from last night returned, and you pulled his head down to you so you could kiss him. He responded immediately, wasting no time. The kiss became passionate in a matter of seconds, and Sam moved his fingers down to your heat. You gasped as he barely dipped their tips inside, bringing your wetness up to your clit to rub in slow circles. “So wet for me already.” He murmured against your lips, nipping them and dipping his tongue in your mouth at the same time he dipped half of his first two fingers into your sex. The second time he went all the way in, and you arched your back so far your stomachs touched, giving Sam an idea.

            While still kissing you, Sam pushed your hips down with the hand that wasn’t making you shake with pleasure. Once you were resting fully on the bed again, he pressed his hand firmly against your lower belly and curled his fingers at the same time. His mouth covered your screams, and you began wildly bucking your hips into his hand. He kept the pressure on your stomach and continued to curl his fingers, then pressed the heel of his right hand against your clit, giving you more without you even having to ask.

            He pulled back from your lips a few mere centimeters and looked into your eyes. “Sam—no—I can’t—too much—I— _Saaaaaam_!” you whined desperately as he continued his torture.

            “Yes you can, baby, come on.” He urged into your ear, biting your earlobe before moving to your neck. “I—I _can’t_! Ohhh God! Oh God!” Sam sped up his rhythm and your voice went a few octaves higher. “Oh God! Saam! Saam! _Saaaaam!”_ chanting his name and screaming, you came around his fingers, juices gathering around them and leaking onto the previously soiled sheets.

            Gently he coaxed you down from your high, kissing your closed eyelids and finally taking his hand away from your overstimulated center. You opened your eyes just in time to see Sam put his fingers in his mouth, licking them perfectly clean and groaning slightly at your taste. You watched him, enraptured, and you were almost ready to go again just from the sight of him. He laid down next to you and whispered huskily in your ear, “You taste _amazing_. Has anyone ever told you that?” you shook your head no.

            “Well, you do. I’d like to taste you every day if you’d let me.”

            You could only nod your head yes very slightly, and Sam chuckled at his ability to render you speechless. After all, you’d been unintentionally doing the same just by entering a room since you met him.

            “SAM?” a deep voice range from the bottom of the stairs. You looked at each other in panic, then quickly made up a plan. Sam rushed to the shower and you got dressed as fast as you could, arranging the bedding so Dean wouldn’t see what had transpired the night before. You opened the bedroom door just before Dean did, and startled him. “Hey. Where’s Sammy?” he asked. “Uh, I think he’s in the shower. I call dibs next by the way.” You said quickly.

            “Damn,” Dean mumbled. “Okay whatever. Breakfast’s on the table.” There were large dark circles under his eyes and you knew he was feeling just as shitty as Sam was.

            “Dean?” you called after him. He turned around. “Are you okay?”

            “Fuckin’ awesome, Y/n, how do you think I’m doin’?” he snapped.

            “I’m sorry, I just wanted to—“

            “Yeah, well don’t. I’m fine.” With that he walked downstairs, the heavy sound of his boots on the wooden stairs resembling the heavy sound his heart made.

            A couple of minutes later, Sam came back into your room dressed in only a towel to retrieve his clothes from last night. “Shower open?” you asked.

            “Yep. It’s all yours. Man that was a close one. I don’t think Dean would have handled finding us in bed together very well…” Sam chewed on his bottom lip.

            “Yeah, me neither. I tried to ask him if he was okay and I may as well have shaved off one of his eyebrows.” Your face bore a hurt expression, and Sam must have noticed it, because he dropped his clothes and walked over to you. “Hey, that’s not your fault. It’s just how he acts when things go wrong. Just, give him some space and he’ll come around.”

            “Yeah, all right. I just—God, Sam, I’m so sorry.” You pulled him into a hug and he immediately wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his head on yours briefly in a moment of grief. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and then pulled back from you. “Don’t worry about us. We know how to deal with losing people.” You could see his Adam’s apple visibly move up and down.

            “That’s not a feeling anyone should be used to.” You said softly. Sam just nodded his head and pursed his lips, knowing that was true, just not for him. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. Dean said breakfast is ready, by the way.”

            “All right. I’m gonna get dressed and head down there. See you downstairs?”

            “Yeah.” You smiled.

Just before you left the room Sam stopped you and said, “Y/n?”

“Yeah?” you turned back.

“Thank you again, for last night.” Sam Winchester, ever the gentleman.

“Thank _you_.” You winked and headed into the bathroom to shower. Sam smiled brightly and wondered what he had done to deserve a woman like you, and hoping he would have the good sense to not screw it up.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. I Send my Thoughts to far off Destinations... Far more Suited than Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the hella late update guys! I will make it up to you in the next chapter! No smut in this one, which I will also make up to you in the next chapter.  
> The tone of this chapter is a bit darker than the others. We're starting to get into the reality of what happened between Sam and the reader, and it's not all rainbows and sunshine. Buckle up, kids!

Sam came downstairs just in time to see Dean making his coffee a little Irish. He would have liked to say something, but he knew it would only put Dean in a worse mood. This was his way of grieving, even if it wasn’t in the healthiest of ways. Hell, it wasn’t like Sam’s way was totally healthy either, so who was he to judge? Ignoring his brother’s choice of pre-afternoon beverage, Sam walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of regular coffee, sweetening it with a little milk and sugar. “Hey,” he greeted. “Where’s Bobby?”

Dean didn’t look up from Sam’s laptop, where he was searching for spare Impala parts, as he answered. “Guy came by wantin’ to buy some shit. Bobby’s out back showin’ him everything he’s got that can’t go in my car.” Dean took a long drink of his coffee and continued scrolling. Sam sat down at the table with him and started picking at his breakfast. “So I guess you were up pretty early this morning.” Dean started.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I didn’t sleep very well, so I took a walk around the yard to clear my mind.” Sam lied through his teeth.

“Really?” Dean asked, though it was more of a statement. By now he was looking at Sam, intensely trying to get an answer out of him. “Huh. Bobby said he didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t see him either. We must have just missed each other.” Sam reciprocated Dean’s stare, not willing to relinquish his secret. The boys stared at each other not speaking for almost a minute before you came downstairs, fully dressed and hair damp. You grabbed some coffee and a bagel, stopping when you saw the metaphorical pissing contest going on before your eyes. “Did I interrupt something?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all.” Dean said shortly, finally ending the stare and exiting the house via the front door. You and Sam shared looks consisting of _what the fuck was that about_ and _I don’t_ _know_. Then you walked over to the window to watch Dean and saw that he was beginning the extensive work on his demolished Impala. “I’m glad Bobby agreed to tow her back,” you began thoughtfully as Sam came up behind you. “Working on that car is probably the only thing keeping him grounded right now.”

_You’re the only thing keeping me grounded right now_ , Sam thought, feeling his heart skip a beat. He wrapped his arms around your waist and you leaned back into him. That action caused Sam to get a whiff of your hair; and he closed his eyes, intoxicated by the smell like an ordinary person would be intoxicated by alcohol. You turned in Sam’s arms to face him, the cuts on his face brought fully to your attention by the daylight. Very gingerly, you touched your fingertip to one of them and he winced. “Sorry. You should really let me clean those up for you. They might get infected.” You said.

“It’s all right. They’ll scab over in a few days.” Sam dismissed.

“Please Sam?” you put on your best puppy eyes and he caved with a smile. You pulled him upstairs and into the bathroom where you pulled out a bottle of peroxide and a bag of cotton balls. The peroxide made some of his wounds sting, and you simply replied with “I told you they could get infected.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and continued to let you play nurse.

As you were dabbing one of the cuts on his forehead, you couldn’t help staring into his eyes. They were greenish today, with several flecks of brown and gold and just a few flecks of blue. Looking closer, you could even see just a hint of purple around the outside edge of his irises. You were so mesmerized by the different colors that you didn’t notice him staring into yours. And neither of you noticed that you were both leaning closer until your lips were touching. There was a hint of a spark that almost made you jump back, and Sam must have felt it too for he also twitched. The two of you gave breathy laughs, closed your eyes, and gave into the sensations of touch and smell and taste. You were so lost in each other that you almost didn’t hear the sound of heavy boots coming up the stairs.

By the time their owner reached the hallway, you had broken away from Sam’s tender lips, and resumed dabbing at his cuts and scrapes with peroxide. The owner of said boots stopped in the doorway, adjusting his cap and asking if Sam would come with him for a minute. He obliged, thanking you for cleaning up his wounds, and left. Bobby nodded at you and followed Sam down the stairs, leading him out of the house and into a secluded section of the yard.

“So, what’d you need?” Sam asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I wanted to talk to you about a few things.” He said vaguely.

“Like?” Sam questioned.

“Like how you’re handling your daddy passing.”

Sam swallowed thickly, looked at the ground, and then back at Bobby.

“Look, Sam, I know you’ve had a little crush on Y/n for a while, and she’s a real sweet girl and a damn good hunter, but I think this is a mistake, what you’re doin’ here. You idgits have gotten yourselves into a big mess, and the longer this goes on, the harder it’s gonna be to get out of. Your little roll in the hay last night sure as hell didn’t mean the same thing to either one a ya. And all you’re gonna get yourselves is hurt. You understand?”

“Yeah. But, I think maybe it did—mean the same thing to both of us. It wasn’t just some random one night stand. It was different.” Sam argued.

“That’s exactly the kind of thinkin’ that’s gonna get you in trouble, boy. Look son, I want you to be happy. But you need to be careful.”

 

Bobby was in the study putting new bindings on some books when you came downstairs. “Hey,” you said. “Where are the boys?”

“Dean’s still tryin’ to save that damn car, and Sam’s out in the yard somewhere lookin’ for parts that’ll match it.” Bobby answered.

“All right. Need any help?” you offered, hoping he would say no.

“I got it covered, you go on.”

“Okay. Just let me know.” You waved your cell phone and calmly bounded out the back door. You found Sam on the south end of the yard, sitting in the cab of a rundown truck, eyes closed and brow furrowed, lips pursed in either frustration or stress. You climbed up on the passenger’s side and opened the door with a loud squeak, startling Sam. He opened his eyes and pulled his gun, and you put both hands in the air. “Geez, Sam, put that thing away! It’s just me!”

“Sorry.” He said, re-holstering his .45. You sat yourself on the bench seat in the cab and shut the door, studying Sam’s face. “You okay?” you asked, even though you knew the likely answer. Sam just shrugged and leaned against his hand, looking out the windshield. You scooted a little closer and put your hand on his arm. “Sam, talk to me.” You urged.

“I don’t know what to do.” He began.

“About what?”

“About… this. About us. About anything. I don’t know.” He shook his head.

“Do… do you… regret what happened last night?” you asked tentatively, afraid of the answer.

“No, I don’t.” he said seriously, turning to look at you. “Y/n, I could never regret sleeping with you. You have to know that. It’s just, the circumstances under which it happened that I don’t like.”

“Understandable. Definitely not the time or place I would have chosen.”

“I don’t want you to think I was using you.”

“I know that.”

“I don’t know how okay I am.”

You rubbed his shoulder with your thumb. “You’ll get there. It’s only been a day.”

Sam nodded. You scooted a little closer, and pulled him in for a hug. He immediately responded, holding you tightly and burying his face in your neck. You stayed like this for a while, wrapped in a warm embrace, not thinking about just how big of a hole the two of you were digging.


End file.
